Chasing Emily

Chapter 1: Summer Camp

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I’m putting my face up closer to the mirror, trying to push as close as I could to it, without everything turning all blurry, and without smashing my face – and spreading strawberry gloss – onto the camp bathroom mirror. I carefully bring the mascara wand through my lashes, biting my lip in concentration.

It’s no joke, trying to get all your lashes pointing in the right direction for your first day of camp – and it’s an essential task, too. Other people think that remembering to pack their torch, or their favourite stuffed toy, are the kind of things most important to remember about for summer camp. Oh no. Not when you are going to Summer camp.

Summer camp is the camp led by Dave Summers, and really is the summer camp to go to. It is the most sought after, expensive camp one could go to in the whole year, and this year, Emily Larssen, rumoured super-model, prostitute, slut and puppy kicker – is going.

Emily Larssen is me. I’m not a super-model – I wish – or a prostitute, slut or puppy kicker for that matter. I’m just a girl. A popular girl.

“Gosh darn it,” I hiss at the mirror, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

Unfortunately, that also makes me the girl who has to be flawless at all times, and if not – I will be scorned by everyone who is going to camp this year, for months after. Even if they can’t look any better if they try.

I so didn’t have time for the make-up this morning though – and so as soon as I got to camp, I had to rush right for the bathrooms, not even stopping to greet anyone (not even my best friend Samantha Wei). I had to look after all my little brothers and sisters this morning – my parents seem unable to stop procreating – and so I had to pack the bare essentials (camp eq., clothes and a lot of makeup) and rush off last-minute.

“Oh my God, Emily Larssen.” A male voice spat out in surprise.

I froze. It can’t be. It can’t be him, not here, not now – not while I’m supposed to be away, having fun at summer camp. I know Sam is always saying that my past will come back and bite me on the derriere someday if I didn’t watch my back, but he couldn’t be here...of all places!

What would he be doing on Summer camp? Last I heard, I completely ruined his reputation and sent him running off for the hills – or family vacation, as per his cover. He’s supposed to be on the Sunshine Coast or something! Lounging around on the sand at Rainbow beach.

My eye is starting to go completely red and puffy, and out the corner of my eye (the one that isn’t red and puffy), in the mirror – I can see him. I completely drop the mascara wand, and it falls down the garbage chute into its doom (seriously, who puts a garbage chute in the bathroom!?).

I spin around, clamping one hand over my red and puffy eye, and the other I point at Jason Summers.

But it’s not like I can think of anything to say to him. My heart is, very much to my dismay, speeding up at the sight of him, and my mouth has gone dry. I haven’t seen him in a year, except on websites, or in girls’ diaries.

I certainly hadn’t expected to see him here.

“Jason,” I say with a nod, taking my hand away from my eye. I hope it’s not really bloodshot and scary, or anything. I’d hate for him to be going around, telling everyone what Emily Larssen had been caught looking like (a giant, puffy, red-eyed monster) that afternoon.

He just looks at me though, and then, without a word, walks right back out of the bathroom. I start to wonder why he was in the bathroom in the first place, and then I spot the male-toilet pee things they piss in.

Oh God.

I’ve been in the male toilets all this time! I look around, and spot one of the cubicles opening up to reveal a bemused looking toddler.

He points at me, and says in a whiney little voice, “what are you doing in here? You’re a girl!”

So I am.

“Ah!” I cry, and then, swinging my makeup bag over my shoulder, I run right back out of the bathroom through the back way, and into the girl one where I spot Samantha, peering closely in the mirror and trying to get her lashes perfect. “Hey Sam,” I call in greeting.

“Where have you been?” she spins around, and points an accusatory finger at me. “I’ve been in here for five minutes all by myself and for the love of God – what the hell is going on with your eye?”

“Is it really that bad?” I walk over to the mirror, and start peering into it all over again, although this time in the right bathroom. “I went into the wrong bathroom Sam!” I cry to her as I start to fix up my eye in the mirror, frowning at it in disdain. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it. He probably thinks I’m a total loser, one year after not seeing him for so long – and I look like someone’s attempted to gouge my eye out with a cotton swab!

No wonder he walked right out of that bathroom. I hadn’t been looking very attractive at all. I won’t tell Sam about it; she thinks I’m still in love with him. Which is completely stupid. I have never been in love with Jason Summers! Never in my life.

“You went into the mens’?” she asks amusedly, “how very you, Emily.”

I luckily have a second wand of mascara, and I fix the eye right up, dropping some eye drop medication into my eye to get rid of the redness quicker than it would have otherwise. A girl has to be prepared for these sorts of things.

But this girl certainly hadn’t been prepared for a visit by Jason Summers. Not one teeny, tiny little bit. I suppose I should explain, about Jason and all, but really...there isn’t anything to explain. I’d served Jason his just desserts last summer, and now, obviously, he is back and he wants revenge. Or he’s just on summer camp, which is unlikely...but he didn’t look like he expected to see me there...

Or was that just because I had been standing in the boys’ bathroom?

I don’t know. All I know is, this isn’t any good news, not good news at all! Even if Jason hasn’t come here, still burning with last summers anger and betrayal, to get his revenge on me like I think – he certainly is thinking about it now for sure! I totally ruined the guy’s party boy reputation, back one summer ago. He has to hate me for it.

“You have been standing there about a minute, and um, no offence, but you have put way too much blush on that cheek, girl.” Sam points out, and I look at the mirror in horror. I have used way too much. I look like a total clown. At least, on one cheek. I start to search through my makeup bag and she clears her throat. I can see her raising an eyebrow at me in the mirror, “so what’s up?”

“Nothing.” I say, swiping a make-up remover pad across my cheek and deciding to ditch the blush for the day. I look nice enough, anyway. The eye’s even starting to fade back to its original white colour. I think.

“Nothing?” she wants to know. She collects up her makeup, and stuffs in all back in her makeup bag. She turns to me afterwards, hands on hips, “Alright, if you’re not going to say it yourself – I know he’s here, Em.”

I freeze, mid putting my makeup back just as she had. How can she know that? How can she know that he’s here, when I didn’t even know till like a couple minutes ago? Had she seen him before I got to, or what?

“Come on, I knew we were probably going to see him anyway,” she says, in a knowing kind of fashion. I look at her, incredulous. She knew we were going to see him here? “It’s his dad’s freaking camp, you idiot. His dad runs this camp.”

Okay. So their last names were the same – Dave Summers, Jason Summers - and I probably should have known from all the news that popped up about them last year. But really, how am I expected to remember things like that? Things like his dad owns the most prestigious summer camp in the entire state of Victoria – the country, even!

Really, how am I expected to remember itty bitty stuff like that? How?

Oh God. I think I need to take some medication or something. I think I’m getting a headache.

“Well, so what?” I say, playing it cool. Like it isn’t a big deal that I have to spend an entire month with the guy, an entire month with someone whom only last year, had been totally smitten with me. Until what happened, happened. “He can camp here too if he wants.”

Sam stares at me.

“He can camp here too if he wants.” Sam mimics me, but with an entirely different tone.

I stand there silently, picking up the last of my makeup and dropping it in the bag, zipping it shut. I don’t answer her.

What I do is what I do every time; turn, smile at her, and change the subject.

I look down at my watch, “You know, I think it’s time for camp meeting.”

“Emily,” she tries, and then shakes her head with a sigh. She looks at me with a wry smile, “One day this will all catch up with you, you know.”

“I know,” I say, and shrug back with a smile. She says this all the time, and she might be right – but until it does, I’m going to do my best avoiding it at all costs. “But right now, I want to have fun on summer camp.”

“Summer camp,” she corrects with a smile and links our arms. “Let’s go check out the boys of 08!”

She has no idea how right she is about the past coming back and hitting me in the face. Because it would, but only God knows if it's going to all turn out okay in the end.

--

“Look at that camp counsellor,” Samantha says with a tone of approval, and I look around, trying to find out which one she’d been talking about. I spot one I think could be the janitor, leaning against a wall; a bucket, a mop and dog at his side. He reaches up and starts poking around in his nostrils.

I make a face, “Ew, that’s disgusting.” I say. I look at Samantha, and then look back to the janitor. Appalling! And now his dog’s peeing all over his shoe, and at the same time, all over the camp hall’s floor! He definitely isn’t much to look at, if he were to have anything to make up for his lack of manners.

“Sam that’s gross,” I say, reaffirming my opinion and taking in the man who stands, grey hair poking out of his ears and something that looks like a root growing out of his nose, by the wall from Dave Summers – and wrinkling my nose in disgust.

“What?” she says, incredulously, and then stabs a finger in my direction, “you’re insane, he’s totally hot.”

“His dog is pissing on the floor.” I say, very much incredulously back, and giving the janitor another look. Maybe I have missed something, some small, yet ultimately defining – attractive – thing about him.

His dog is still pissing down on the floor (how much can one dog pee? Seriously, I think he is peeing more than I did back in 6th grade when I got dared to guzzle down twelve cans of coke faster than Larry Hawks) and oh my God, I think it’s creeping over to lunch lady Caroline’s sandals and –

“Not him.” Sam cries in dismay, and starts to watch the pee move closer and closer to Caroline. She shakes her head, and snaps out of it, “Him.”

I look around and watch where she’s pointing and gulp when I find out who she’s pointing at.

Jason Summers.

If possible, he’s even hotter than when I last met him. I had been walking along on a Sunday morning with my aunt’s dog after a night at a concert I’d desperately wanted to see all spring. I’d finally got to go when summer came – he’d been out on his lawn (surrounded by big tall fences and security cameras) kicking around a football.

He’d looked up, and grinned at me, I’d let go of my aunt’s dog’s (or Sparky, as she goes by) leash and she’d gone bounding off on the busy streets of Melbourne. I was too shocked to go after her, or move, for that matter.

Jason Summers, shirtless and grinning, frowned, swore, and ran up and after Sparky; I could only watch after him, as his floppy blonde hair flew around in the wind, and as his board shorts crept dangerously low on his hips.

He did catch Sparky though, and nearly caused a car accident as he did so, scooping up Sparky as someone’s breaks skidded to a halt, and they shrieked, “OH MY GOD! JASON FREAKING SUMMERS!”

They got out and nearly scooped Jason into their arms, like he’d scooped up the dog. But all he did was hold up his hands and laugh.

He assured the person he was okay, and then ran back up to me, dog in his arms. He grinned that heart throbbing grin, and held Sparky out to me, “More care next time, eh?”

I took the dog, “Your hair is piss yellow.” I had said. He had blinked, and I’d turned an extraordinary colour of red.

That is the first thing I ever said to Jason Summers, and it isn’t the last – I hadn’t, in the beginning, gone out to hurt his feelings. It had just happened.

And I don’t regret it. I don’t.

He is standing up, back straight, with his hands resting behind his head. He looks bored. He occasionally glances at his dad, who is standing right next to him, and rolls his eyes back into his head – like, Oh God, how embarrassing. I start, and my arms go frigid at my sides, because it reminds me so much of when he first introduced me to his dad. He’d been wearing that same look.

“And under no circumstances will any of you be engaging in sexual acts while on the premises,” Dave Summers told us all sternly, and I look at Jason to find him making a face at his fathers words. I don’t know why. But I feel like laughing. I clench my hands, and shake my head. Stop it. Stop it.

I watch the rest of the camp attendees pretend to take this comment very seriously, and some of the new girls and boys (new to the camp) reddened, embarrassed about being told ‘no sex’ (basically) by someone who’s practically a celebrity around here. And really old (older than them).

“You like him,” Sam whispers with not a little humour. “Do you want me to go ask his name, introduce the two of you?”

I suppose I can’t blame her for not recognising him. Even if he used to be, and sometimes still is, on the covers of all the magazines. I mean. The guy had got hot. Hotter than ever before, I mean.

His hair’s no longer piss colour (as I so eloquently put it upon our first meeting), the sun on the Sunshine coast had something to do with that, I bet.

“That’s Jason, Sam.” I say gently. I don’t look at her to see her reaction; I take to looking and paying more attention to Dave. I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my check, though.

“And some of you may know him,” Dave Summers chuckles nervously, and then pulls his son to his side, wrapping an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “This is my son, Jason, and no, he’s not a counsellor! Maybe next year,” he chuckles some more, “but he’s a bit too young yet!”

“His hairs not pee colour anymore.” She comments.

I turn to her, this time, “I know!”

“What, precisely, do you know miss Larssen?” I find Dave Summers asking me. I don’t say anything, I just stammer at him.

“Um,” I say.

Luckily, or not so luckily, Sam takes control of the situation. She points over to Jason candidly, “She knows his hair’s not pee colour anymore.”

Everyone turns to stare at me; Dave Summers turns to stare at me, and then finally, Jason.

Oh God.

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MEEP!

Oh my God. Like new story, everyone? I hope you like it so far, because Em’s a fun character to write. Every chapter name is a song. The lyrics might relate sometimes...and sometimes it’s just the name, heh.

About the janitors root nose I have come across either this crazy lady in Perth (literally, she was sitting there, swearing at the empty seat in front of her and telling it she doesn’t like it’s family, and swearing quite frequently) or this old man who tried to give candy to my little girl guide I was taking around.

He was kind of creepy. Or maybe he was just nice. Who knows.

(soon I’ll have a Halloween story up involving a merman and an axe murderer)

you know you love me,

xoxo.